Pained Laughter

Psycho was not having a good day, not at all in fact. The night before had been quite fun, he massacred a small time street thug gang in their hideout and decided to stay there for the night for the simple fact that there aren't many places, if any at all, that would let him stay there instead. He slept peacefully, but he awoke that morning to the most absolutely infuriating and damn right maddening sound he has ever been forced to experience. Laughter. From the moment he regained consciousness from his slumber, he was heard the deafening sound of endless laughter echoing through his head. After an hour of pained screaming, laying in the fetal position and clutching at his head futilely trying to drown out the noise, he finally managed to recompose himself, somewhat, enough to be able to stand up again. The laughter in his head almost screaming at him, Psycho found conscious thought an impossibility and the only things he could feel were pain and anger. He howled out in agony, his signature tentacles bursting out of his back and trashing around the room wildly, smashing everything that they came in contact with apart. He needed some way to let out his pent up anger in a creative and constructive fashion, which to Psycho meant going destroying random objects or people that just so happened to be in his way.

Directing his rage on what lay before him, Psycho went to work on destroying everything in his wake. His already formed tentacles no longer moving randomly, but instead were actively being used for the purpose of tearing everything within their reach to pieces. The mutilated, nigh unrecognizable corpses of the dead gang members were thrown around like rag dolls and further torn apart by Psycho's elongated extra appendages, while Psycho himself was busy feasting on the slowly rotting flesh of the gang's also deceased leader savagely, trying to sate his blood lust. His sharpened fangs dug into the, not so fresh, meat of the man and he fed on it monstrously and the other corpses that once littered the room had become simply piles of blood and indistinguishable gore, but despite his best efforts, the laughter in his head was still ever present and was just as irritating. Roaring at the top of his lungs, Psycho started to smash apart the entire building, breaking through the walls and tossing around larger pieces of rubble and broken furniture in all directions. It didn't take long for the building to come crashing down, but even in the aftermath of the destruction, the voices in his head never ceased.

He was screaming bloody murder once again, grasping at the sides of his head like a vice, with more than enough force necessary to crush any normal man's skull like a grape, with his eyes clenched shut tightly. He almost didn't even feel the mildly annoying sensation on his back, but it was enough to get his attention. Snapping his eyes open and turning his head around so violently it almost seemed like enough to snap his neck, he caught sight of a New York city police officer aiming a gun at him, shouting something incomprehensible to Psycho at the moment. In truth, Psycho really didn't care for the man in any case, the only thing he was concerned with was ending the incessant laughter that actually made him contemplate suicide, just to shut it up. Just then, a strange and illogical thought passed through his mind. Maybe they're the ones doing this...they're the ones laughing! If I kill them, they can't laugh anymore! I HAVE TO KILL THEM ALL!. Of course the idea was both idiotic and completely insane (The laughter clearly being all in his head), but that never stopped Psycho before. With a new murderous goal in mind, Psycho charged the unwitting police officer with overwhelming force, tearing into him like a knife through butter with his enlarged claws.

Almost an hour into his psychotic rampage, Psycho had managed to kill countless civilians and police officers. There seemed to be distinct lack of law enforcement, possibly due to some other hellish superhuman activity going on in New York at the time, or maybe they were still recovering from some serious loss of men, or something else, Psycho didn't know, or really care for that matter, he was too busy killing people. Eventually Psycho stood alone in a street, sprawled with clear signs of death and destruction, and a few half eaten corpses. Oddly, all of the voices laughing in his head had calmed, all but one. Looking around frantically at all directions, Psycho couldn't see anyone left to kill. In his frustration, he let out one final powerful howl of anger.

Carlos had started up his daily road work that was also a bit of a patrol the way he normally does, He was wearing a cheap, heavy gray hooded sweatshirt and simlar sweat pants and a pair of basketball shoes, Also very cheap, He would go through lots of shoes with the sheer distances that he would run in his road work that he would be unable to keep them for more than a few days. Yes Campeon had to take massive cross city trips for his roadwork, Its hard to do endurance workouts when you have practically limitless endurance. He was cranking half way across the city before hearing quite the ruckus and the oh so familiar clatter and retort of gunfire be cut short.

"That means its my time to get going." He mumbled to himself as he made a turn at as he made a sharp turn on a street corner and started to charge off towards where he heard the gunfire. "Hopefully its just a easy to break up skirmish...hopefully." He thought as he barged his way through the streets,nimbly dodging one angry cab driver and almost getting hit by a different one. But when he arrived this was no skirmish, this was a massacre. Bloody Corpses everywhere, Debris knocked off of buildings, It seemed as a small war was fought here. And at the center of it all there was a man screaming bloody murder, Campeon could assume that he was the one who had done all this. So he looked down at his wraps, checking how tight the gauze was around his knuckles before calling out to the Man-Beast, "Oye! If you are looking for a fight you've got one right here Cabron."

Slowly, but surely, Psycho's pained screams eventually started to die down and become a heavy panting at the sound of someone speaking not that far away from him. The voice had some kind of accent to it, clearly foreign, but Psycho didn't really know or care to think about it. He called him by some strange word in another language, which he could only assume was some kind of insult, not many people called Psycho anything positive or the least bit complementary. His pupilless eyes slowly made their way to the roughly six foot tall and seemingly physically built man standing just down the street from him. The man was dressed in a gray hooded sweatshirt and matching pants, his attire appeared cheap and looked like something that would be typically worn by someone who was training or exercising. Getting up from the crouched position he was in when he was screaming, his eyes became completely fixated on the man. Still panting heavily, he began to walk sluggishly towards the man, not even bothering to sidestep the small obstacles that got in his way. Walking right over some of the crushed and mutilated bodies of his most recent victims, crushing and snapping the occasional skull or miscellaneous bone under his foot. A random mix of ripped out organs and gore got squashed with almost each step he took, the endless laughter of that one last voice still mocking him relentlessly.

"Shut...Up..." He mumbled silently. "Just...shut up..." He had made it about half way down the street, still a good deal away from the new arrival. His breathing having become extremely heavy and erratic. The blood of his victims stained his claws and was dripping off of them and onto the ground below. He shut his eyes tightly and winced in pain as the laughter was getting to be louder and even more mind wrecking. Snapping his eyes open, he stared directly at the man with an intense look, almost as if trying to burn a hole in his head.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STOP LAUGHING!" He screamed, almost roaring, at the man. There was only one voice left and only one man in sight, Psycho concluded that he was the one laughing at him, that he was the one driving him insane, well more insane. Deciding on only one course of action, Psycho was going to make it his new goal to tear this man's head off. Six pitch black tentacles spawned out from his back and took hold of a nearby, significantly damaged, delivery truck and hoisted it up into the air. He let out an enraged roar as he sent the vehicle hurtling towards the man with great force.

"Laughing?" Carlos said with a cocked eyebrow "I aint lau-" Carlos went from standing in a relaxed postion to a a standard boxing stance with left hand forward and both fists cocked near his chin. He stood his ground as the truck made a surprisingly smooth arc towards him. He made no attempt to run out of the way, He wasn't fast enough and he knew it, So he just tracked it with his eyes as it moved towards him in slow motion. When it came in arms reach that's when he finally decided to make his second move. His right hand shot out towards the frame of the truck Crumpling it to form a grip, and then his left hand shot out, forming another grip as he rotated his torso, tossing the truck a short distance all in one seemingly smooth motion. His gaze turned steely as he looked towards his opponent "I aint laughing"

Then he began his charge towards Psycho. A Bee-Line straight towards him but Carlos ran with his torso forward and and weaving his upper body in a attempt to dodge any other projectiles thrown at him, He ran right at Psycho and then some. He would slam his shoulder into Psycho's torso in the manner a inside fighter would before leveling his torso with his and opening up with body punches at extreme close range. He took full advantage of the fact that it only took 6 inches to reach effective punching power as he punches attempted rattle the strange combatant.

Almost immediately after his elongated appendages threw the truck at his opponent, and thought to be tormentor, Psycho was once again mentally assaulted with the laughter that had been driving him to do all of the killing today, but with much force, pitch and volume than before. Then, all he could feel was pain. Pure, agonizing, sensory crippling pain. His eyes snapped shut, him having no control over the matter, and his head shot upward, facing the sky. A shrill, yet terrifying scream burst out of his wide open mouth. He then stumbled back and forth, his clawed hands gripped his head tightly, threatening to break his skull, as he started to convulse in pain. While like this, he was weak, open and above all, vulnerable. This made things only worse for when the man's body made contact with Psycho's own with incredible force, the man clearly possessing great strength, much greater than Psycho's. Had Psycho been in his, as much as it can be for him anyway, right mind he would have been able to prepare for the man's counter attack, or even have noticed that his attack hadn't been effective, but in the state he was in at the time that was an impossibility.

The sudden, unexpected blow the man had landed was enough for Psycho to have the air knocked out of him, both winding him and causing a small amount of bloody bile to escape his mouth, the blood not being his of course, but eating so much raw human meat does tend to make your bile pretty gory. To say the least, Psycho was confused as hell. He didn't understand what was going on at the moment, one second he was doubled over in pain over the maddening laughter plaguing his mind, the next second he was being hit by the odd (Not much is considered truly strange by Psycho's standards) man and was finding it a little hard to breathe. Luckily, that is for Psycho at least, one thing seemed to play in favor for him. As if by natural reflex, triggered by the threat of bodily harm on Psycho's person, without warning dozens of still attached, fairly long spikes shot out from all over his body. Their shapes varied, but they were generally jagged and crooked, but were above all, sharp. Hopefully, it would be able to do some damage to the man, but at the very least it should have been enough to give Psycho some breathing space and get focused again.

[Topic abandoned]